


Broken Promises

by VivArney



Category: Mission: Impossible (TV 1988)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 11:01:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5624587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VivArney/pseuds/VivArney





	Broken Promises

"The Cat's In The Cradle and the Silver Spoon  
Little Boy Blue and The Man In The Moon.  
When you coming home, Dad/Son?  
I don't know when,  
But we'll get together then, yeah,  
We're gonna have a good time then."

from "Cat's Cradle" by Harry Chapin

Grant Collier pulled a couple of shirts off their hangers and added them to the pile of clothing already in his suitcase. He was due to leave on a interrupted by a loud crash from the living room. Grant dropped the shaving kit he had just picked up and dashed out of the room. 

He cursed silently as he spotted the cause of the racket. His father's big black and white dog stood at one end of the sofa systematically clearing the coffee cups and knick-knacks off the end table and coffee table with his thick rope-like tail. Grant was not at all pleased to see the hairy mutt standing proudly over a pile of shattered glass, porcelain and wood. Grant rushed forward suddenly, and barely managed to catch the delicate jade and silver box he had brought back from Tibet several weeks earlier; before it, too, crashed to the polished wood floor. He set the box up on the mantle, out of danger, then knelt to pick up the mess.

His father appeared at the kitchen door, wiping his hands on a dish-towel. "Jinx, what are you doing in here?"

The dog's tail swung that much faster, slapping Grant hard across the face before he could catch it and prevent any further damage. 

Grant sat back on his heels and sighed. 

Barney dropped the towel onto the bar, "I'm sorry, Grant. I thought he was outside," he apologized. He came over, grabbed the dog's collar and hauled him outside. He noted the large hole in the screen, and resolved to have it repaired before his son returned.

"Oh, damn," Grant muttered.

Barney closed the sliding glass door and returned to see his son sitting on his heels with a pained expression on his face. "Grant?"

The younger man didn't seem to hear. He was staring at something that rested in the palm of his hand. Barney bent forward to see. His son held the remains of a silly looking porcelain bear.

"Are you all right, son?" he asked, quietly. "Grant?"

Grant looked up, almost dazedly. "Huh?"

Barney frowned and repeated his question as Grant laid the pieces of the figurine onto the coffee table, and bent to pick up more bits of broken glass.

"It's nothing."

Barney chuckled softly. "Yeah, sure."

There was a moment of silence in the living room. Finally, Grant took a deep breath, "I bought this for Casey's birthday," he began, fingering broken edge of the glazed figure. "I was going to give it to her after the...." He sighed, "I never got the chance."

Barney put a hand on his son's shoulder. "I wondered why you had it, it didn't seem like something you'd buy for yourself.

Grant took another deep breath, then flashed his father an embarrassed smile. "Anyway, when we got back, I didn't... I couldn't... think of anything else to do with it. So, I kept it."

Barney nodded his understanding. IMF team members tended to be close - closer than most families sometimes - they had to be, since they depended on each other so heavily. He didn't know the exact details of Casey Randall's death, that was classified, but both his son and his old friend, Jim Phelps, had been pretty upset by the young woman's death, and with good reason. He had only known her briefly, but even he felt the loss.

His son was still bent over the mess on the floor, trying to salvage what he could. He flashed his father a sad smile. "I'm okay," he reassured the older man. "Thanks."

"I'll take care of this," Barney offered. "You better go and eat or you'll miss your plane."

Grant gave his father an 'Are you sure?' look and got a nod in return. He stood, brushed at the knees of his jeans and walked into the kitchen. He hated to admit it, but, after his mother's death a few years earlier, he and his father had drifted apart. It had taken almost three years and a dangerous mission in Turkey to bring them together again.

He had done a lot of deep thinking on the plane back to the States before he could finally admit to himself that he had indeed been angry with his father for not being available when his mother died. The anger hadn't lasted long - it was soon replaced by understanding, but he still felt a little guilty that the anger had ever existed in the first place. Now, he and his father were closer than they had ever been and he was glad.

His father joined him at the table a short time later and they talked and joked as they ate.

* * * * *

Barney watched in silence as his son stepped into his cab for the airport. The younger man waved as the driver punched the accelerator and sped off around the corner.

As Barney turned away, his dark eyes fell upon a framed portrait hanging on one wall of the narrow entry hall. He smiled back at the image of his younger self standing with a hand on the left shoulder of a madly grinning ten year old Grant. His wife was beside him with her hand on Jamie's shoulder. There was a look of pride in her eyes as she looked down at her two handsome sons. Everything had seemed so perfect back then. Sure, he was away a lot more than he would have wished, but the boys had always seemed to understand all the missed ball games, holidays and birthdays.

He perched himself on the edge of the sofa, his mind filling with memories.

Five year old Grant explaining his father's frequent absences in perfect first grader's logic. 'Of course Daddy loves us, Jamie. He wouldn't come back if he didn't.' There had been some pretty close calls during his time with the IMF and Barney had known how devastated his sons would have been if he hadn't returned from one of the more dangerous missions. He had had to put that concern out of his mind, however, or it could have cost him his life or, worse, the life of one of the other team members.

A few years later, Jamie's crack about his father going off to do his "James Bond act" had become almost a family joke. It hadn't been so funny later, though, when he returned home a full week after his wife's death. The hurt, almost accusing, look in his sons' eyes had been almost too much to bear.

It hadn't helped matters any that Grant had to leave for an assignment the next afternoon, leaving he and Jamie to try and heal the steadily widening rift between them. It hadn't worked. Every time he looked into his youngest son's eyes he had seen the same betrayed look he had seen the night he returned. Even the place he had called home for more than twenty years seemed to be shouting accusations at him. The house was just too full of memories. Finally, he had put things in order and bolted. He had felt he had to put as much distance between himself and the haunting memories as he could, and Turkey had seemed to be just far enough away.

Now, nearly three years after his wife's death, the pain at losing her wasn't as bad as it had once been, but, when he thought of all the time he had lost... time he could never recapture...his grief felt like an icy steel fist squeezing his chest. He and Grant had managed, somehow, to regain the closeness they'd shared years before. He just wished the void between Jamie and himself could be as easily closed.

Jinx barked unhappily outside, demanding his attention, and Barney forced himself to put his memories aside as he joined the dog in the yard. The pain and loneliness slipped away as he tossed a piece of an old broomstick for the dog.

As he stood, watching the dog run about, he came to a decision. When Grant returned, he and his son would go to Jamie and try again to come to some sort of peace with him. It wouldn't be an easy job, he knew; but, if they succeeded, it would be well worth the effort. `And besides,' he thought, with a wry smile, 'I've always had a thing for impossible missions.'


End file.
